


The Hippocratic Oath

by spookyknight



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-06 17:21:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyknight/pseuds/spookyknight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The meta-crisis Doctor finds his purpose from an unlikely source. Tired of living with the burden of guilt, he resolves to try and find a way back to the universe of his making and fix the aftermath of his tenth incarnation. The result is a voyage of reconciliation and self-discovery across two universes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Somewhere I Belong

**Author's Note:**

> A sort-of sequel to Profit & Loss but not totally conditional to the other story. We start with a difficult conversation. Beginnings aren't always easy but they are hopeful. A big thank you to beta T'Kirr for the edits.

_"The Doctor, the man who keeps running, never looking back because he dare not, out of shame."_

* * *

 

Being human was all about learning. In that way, it wasn't so different from being Time Lord. There was, however, a distinct emphasis on hindsight. The Doctor had always been one to look ahead - on to the next adventure, the next companion, the next life. But now, finding himself with precious little time in the life ahead, his thoughts drifted to the past more than ever before.

Being human was also about empathy. Not that he didn't always have compassion for his fellow travelers before. Sharing their limitations, weaknesses, and feelings, though, put a whole new perspective on humanity. For the first time, the Doctor saw life from the other side of the TARDIS doors. He was the one shut out and left behind, while the immortal Time Lord moved on to the next life without looking back.

"I've been thinking about Davros," he told her on their last day in Barcelona, out of the blue, like he was commenting on the weather. "Some of the things he said."

They were sitting on the mosaic serpentine bench of the main terrace overlooking Park Güell, snacking on samosas and patatas bravas which Rose insisted on calling 'Spanish chips' instead of their proper name. It was a beautiful, lazy day and she couldn't imagine what might inspire such dark thoughts.

"I think that's the last - " Rose struggled for a vulgar enough term for their shared enemy and, finding none, continued anyway. "... _person_  you should be thinking about."

"Maybe not," he disagreed, regarding her seriously. "Enemies have a way of knowing you - predicting you - sometimes even more than friends. That's what he wanted to show me... him," the Doctor faltered for a moment, as he often did these days when he was unsure of how to refer to the joint past with his separated self. "Lay all the mistakes and shortcomings out plainly for all to see. He wanted to break me by showing me what I really am, called it his final victory. And it would be, Rose, if I didn't overcome it. If I don't learn from it."

Rose tried to listen objectively but couldn't help fixating on something that didn't add up in his story. "But... how could you know that? You weren't there when he said that."

He blinked, momentarily taken aback, and despite the serious topic fought the urge to grin at how Rose continued to impress him with her skills of observation.

"Well," he began, drawing out the word very slowly to take up time, which Rose took as a foreboding sign for the upcoming explanation. "We had the TARDIS then and between the two of us she worked out a sort of feedback loop. A bit like a backwards ripple - but more like a sideways ripple, really - and any memories of our divergent time that day while the TARDIS was still present were shared."

She ruminated over his words and began to wonder if that meant the original Doctor had vicarious memories of their first kiss too, when the TARDIS was still there on the beach. Watching him walk away and knowing the Time Lord might be out there right now carrying that with him just made things more confusing. She wasn't sure how to feel about it and was starting to wish they'd never set out on this conversation.

The Doctor continued, bringing the focus back on his original intent. "I've been thinking about Donna too. And about what you said, looking for a purpose outside of the two of us."

He looked at her with an open vulnerability that begged the importance of her understanding. Sharing decisions with her was something Rose was still adjusting to. During her time traveling in the TARDIS he often asked her where she wanted to go but ultimately their next step was always in the hands of the designated driver. Having a part in his destiny now seemed a momentous responsibility. It reminded her of what her mother always told her a relationship should be, a thought that made Rose suddenly feel very 'grown up.'

"Okay," she said resolutely. She did believe finding his own identity was drastically important and was prepared to support him wherever that endeavor took them. "What do you want to do?"

He smiled at her intuitive open-mindedness but it faded a bit when he remembered what he was about to tell her. "First, there are some things you need to understand. About a human-Time Lord biological metacrisis."

If they had to have this conversation in public, Rose was glad it was in a foreign country where the people around them hopefully didn't speak English, or at least not as a first language. It was a late, mid-week morning so the terrace was less crowded than usual but the park was still a popular destination. They were far from alone, tourists and locals alike milling about all around them.

The Doctor seemed to anticipate her concern because he stood up and nodded toward the grand stairs leading down to the entrance and the plaza below. Rose followed his lead, walking next to him at a leisurely pace.

"I know the basics," she reminded him calmly. "You're here after all. So tell me what I don't know."

He paled at the thought of having to start in the middle. Explication was best tackled from the beginning. He struggled for a moment as they ambled on, finding the words that intersected brevity with layman's terms. Once the connection came to him, it seemed obvious. The spark of recognition manifested as a bounce in his step when he turned to face her, walking backwards with hands in his pockets and making it look irritatingly easy.

"You remember the nanogenes?" he queried animatedly. "You know, barrage balloons, gas masks, Captain Jack, 'are you my mummy?'" his voice rose in pitch at the last in a spot-on imitation.

She nodded and smirked. "Big Ben," she added with a twinkle of mischief.

In his new clothes, Rose thought he looked rather dashing. It was a bit distracting, if she were to be honest. She hadn't been able to convince him too far away from the three piece suit but at least he'd left off the jacket for the warmer climate today. With all the carefree exploring of the past couple days, it was easy to get caught up in his energy.

After swiping a scrap of psychic paper from Torchwood, effectively restoring the Doctor to nomadic greatness, they had left London without even bothering to pack, picking up clothes and supplies along the way. In some ways, even as they sauntered along the terrace, it felt like this was the first time they'd come to a stop.

He smiled briefly but it faded again quickly as he turned and fell into step beside her. "The regeneration energy that became, well, 'me' needed guidance to finish the form. Just like the nanogenes. Needed to learn. It learned from Donna. That's why I'm part human."

"Is that a problem?" she asked thoughtfully.

Blimey, was that a loaded question. Was being human a problem? Problematic, surely. One heart, inferior biology, pathetic immunity and slow decay. But he was pretty sure that wasn't really the gist of what she was asking.

"Not for me," the Doctor settled on the half-truth. "But the process backfired, creating a two-way biological metacrisis."

"Doctor-Donna," she recalled.

He nodded grimly. "A Time Lord consciousness in a fully human body. Amazing, but unstable. Dangerous. She couldn't maintain it for long. Her mind would burn."

Rose froze in place. Tears sprung to her eyes and she clasped a hand over her mouth. "So she's -"

"No," he jumped in quickly, reaching a hand out to rub her arm reassuringly. "The plan was to take her memories. But - I mean all of them. Everything from the moment she appeared on the TARDIS. She's alive, I'm sure. Safe. But Donna, the one I knew, the woman who saved all of reality... she's gone."

The weight of this truth crashed down on Rose powerfully. She agonized for Donna, losing not just the recollection of adventures but a piece of herself. An important piece, the brave little part of everyone the Doctor touched that he made better. And she mourned for the Time Lord, having to be the one to take it away from her.

"But he said he'd have Donna with him," she remembered. "That he wouldn't be alone."

"Rule number one," the Doctor muttered sourly.

Rose furrowed her brows in confusion, incredulous at the completely inappropriate response. "Don't wander off?" she submitted for confirmation.

"Ah," he realized. "I did tell you that, didn't I?" He was surprised she remembered given how many times she broke that particular order. "That is rule number one for you. For anyone who traveled with me. But in general, it's 'rule number one: the Doctor lies.'"

He turned to meet her eyes and saw a bleak sadness come over them before her gaze flitted down to the plaza below. "You too, then," she presumed darkly.

The Doctor heaved a tired sigh born of a thousand bitter memories that weren't really his to regret. "Suffice to say it's a habit I'm trying to break."

She nodded, in relief and affirmation both. "I think I can help with that. If you'll let me."

He smiled then, an upturn of lips that spoke more of gratitude than happiness. "I hope for that. I know it's too much to ask - "

"It's not," she blurted suddenly, cutting him off. With her own small smile she found his hand and threaded their fingers together in an unspoken gesture of comfort.

He stared at their joined hands for a beat before tugging her along to follow him down the stone staircase. The Doctor stayed quiet for a long moment then, pulling together coherency and courage to keep going.

"I want - " he started haltingly. "I think I need to fix it. The things that went wrong this time around. The events leading up to the metacrisis were predetermined somehow. A causal loop. I'm still me, and I can't help but think there's a reason for that. It must be the human part." He chuckled dryly and looked up with a teasing spark lighting brown eyes. "You lot are so obsessed with finding meaning in everything."

Rose sniggered despite herself. Yup, he was still himself all right, insulting other species to cover his own nervousness. Even when he was now included in one of these species.

"How?" she asked hesitantly as they reached the bottom of the stairs. She didn't want to rain on his parade but she couldn't see how he was going to mend things that happened in the other universe when they were stuck here.

He coaxed her to sit with him on the steps next to the Dragon Fountain and pulled something from his pocket, presenting it on his palm. Rose recognized the chunk of coral from the TARDIS, the other Doctor's last gift to them. She was surprised at first that he'd brought it with them but then she figured he wouldn't want to let it out of his sight. Instinctively, she reached out her hand to touch it and something made her startle and gasp, a free hand flying to her chest.

The Doctor watched her intently. "Can you - " No, it was impossible. Ridiculous. He shouldn't even voice it. "Can you feel it?"

"You mean the hum?" she wondered breathlessly. "Yeah, a little bit. But..." That wasn't what had made her jump.

Amazing, fantastically brilliant Rose Tyler, how could he have ever doubted? The words BAD WOLF flashed across his brain. Rose had to give up the Vortex, but it seemed the TARDIS was reluctant to give up Rose. Some part of his two loves were still connected.

She shocked him even more when she fingered under her shirt collar for a silver chain, tugging until her glowing TARDIS key came into view. He caught it reverently and beamed at her like Tony on Christmas morning, consumed by awe and wonder that the presents before him were somehow magically his.

"Rose," he venerated her name, just a whisper overcome with emotion.

In the next moment she was swept up in the Doctor's crushing embrace. The angle was awkward on the stairs but she accepted his hug happily, stroking his shoulders as he lingered, nearly trembling with jubilance. Rose savored his warmth and she almost swore the scent of stardust was a little stronger. He squeezed her tightly once more and jumped away just as quickly as he'd moved in.

"You know what this means?" he chirped excitedly.

She laughed brightly at his enthusiasm but shook her head indicating she'd no idea.

"Your key is the key, Rose. Look." He pocketed the coral and held up the key near her face so she could see the golden shimmer. It was warm, almost buzzing, in his grasp. "It's got Vortex energy stored inside. The new TARDIS - our TARDIS - can assimilate the energy from both sides of the Void. She'll be able to travel in both universes."

"But we can't get back," she pointed out sadly, gently taking the key and tucking it back in her shirt. "You said it was impossible."

He shrugged, nonplussed. "It is impossible. Doesn't mean we shouldn't try."

Rose snorted derisively. "Like you tried to get back to me."

His face fell instantly. "I did try," he lamented, pain shining darkly in his eyes. "Rose, how could you think..."

She looked away, suddenly feeling childish. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have... It's just, you never said."

"I tried everything," he confessed quietly. "After Donna turned me down the first time around, I traveled everywhere I could think of looking for an answer. There was nothing. Every wise man, library, infodisk, and data matrix was a dead end."

The Doctor smoothed his hand across her cheek until she looked back at him. "You were the one that found a way," he smiled wistfully.

"But the walls were breaking down, then," she protested stubbornly. "The Dimension Cannon doesn't work anymore."

"There's no guarantee," he allowed. "All I'm asking is if you'd be willing to give it a go."

"You want to go back," she said, part question part statement. Her voice was even, withholding opinion of his answer.

"Theoretically, there's a small chance we may be able to preserve Donna's memories. At least up until the metacrisis. It will take a lot of research. And luck. And practice of skills I'm not even sure I have anymore - " he took a deep breath and scrubbed a hand over his face in exasperation.

"I get it," Rose assured him, gathering his hands up the way he always did when she was uncertain. "You want to help her. That's good, I think. Let's try."

"Yeah?"

She smiled widely. "Yeah."

He grinned broadly in kind. "Because, Rose, if anyone could do it, it'd be us."

Rose hummed happily and looked out across the square, at peace with their idealistic plans for the future. At least this time they were together. That doubled their chances of pulling off the impossible.

"So," she began conversationally. "Donna turned you down?"


	2. Never be the Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It never occurred to her this might just happen naturally, on a hotel bed in Barcelona with no outside forces or prompting.

In the late evening, as twilight settled into dusk and the lamps lit up the streets of Barcelona, Rose and the Doctor celebrated their last night in the city with a trip to the local market. Through smiles, banter, curious questions, and mini-lectures, they haphazardly planned out their final Spanish meal as enticing ingredients were added to the basket one by one.

Freshly baked bread, a house-made green olive tapenade, Manchego cheese, one huge tomato, several cured meats, and a handful of Marcona almonds all made the cut. Stocked with their food, they shifted the grocery bags to opposite sides so they could walk back to their little posada hand in hand.

They had walked these streets several times in their touring of the city, and their familiarity must have shown when a group of American tourists came up and asked them directions. Rose let the Doctor answer for them, giving detailed instructions to the visitors about the best route to their destination. She smiled contentedly to herself at the situation, that they had so easily fallen back into traveling; finding a home in not having one.

Finally back in the room, the indoor picnic was spread on the bed for lack of a proper table. They sampled different combinations, discussing the merits and shortcomings of each. Rose knew she was onto something with her tomato-rubbed bread smothered with tapenade when it became clear the Doctor had his designs on it.

She took a bite of her culinary handiwork before he could snatch it away.

"Mmm, I'm gonna miss this," she mumbled through a full mouth.

Not one to be denied, he plucked the remaining piece from her hand and ate it before she could protest.

"What?" he asked, matching her rudeness as he talked while he chewed. "Traveling or Barcelona in particular?"

"This food," she clarified, shoving him lightly for taking her food. "Didn't think we were giving up traveling."

His face grew a bit more serious as he loaded up another slice of bread with toppings.

"Not permanently," he agreed thoughtfully. "But the TARDIS will need monitoring if we have any hope of her maturing in our lifetime. We may not be able to go far."

The Doctor raised his eyes to gauge her reaction to this news as he busied himself with assembling food.

She gave him a small smile, hoping to convey her continued support of their goal. "S'alright. We'll just have to take some of this olive stuff with us, it's gorgeous."

He grinned happily and offered the piece he was working on to her instead of taking it himself. It was a sweet gesture that made her heart sing as much as his candid expression.

"We'll pick some up on the way out tomorrow," he promised.

They would have to. By the end of the evening, the tub of spread was gone, along with pretty much everything else save a few crusts of bread. The scraps cleared from the bed, Rose shook the coverlet vigorously to remove any crumbs before going about their nightly routine.

When she came out from the en suite dressed for bed in the usual oversized shirt and shorts, she found the Doctor reading by the light of one lamp above the bed. He had to make do without his brainy specs for now, but he looked just as clever focusing intently on the words of the pages within.

Rose crawled onto the mattress beside him, content to just watch him and wait rather than interrupting his reading. It was only a moment before he closed the book and deposited it on the nightstand so he could turn to her unimpeded.

It was obvious he felt more comfortable with her now, dressed only in thin cotton pyjama pants and lounging easily with his head propped up on his elbow to look down on her.

She smiled up at him serenely. "Traveling with you, can I just say..."

"I love it," he finished for her, running his hand tenderly through her blond hair fanning out on the pillow.

His hand in turn rose to twine in the hair falling against her neck. The absent motion turned into a deliberate caress, across her collarbone over her shoulder and down her arm.

"You're beautiful," he murmured adoringly.

She turned and hid her face in the pillow to spare him the ridiculous grin on her face.

"You can't do that," she admonished mildly.

He smirked, lifting her chin so he could see her. "Do what, compliment you?"

"Say ridiculously soppy things and look at me like that," she clarified.

"Why," he needled, brushing his nose against hers. "What will happen?"

The Doctor didn't give her the chance to answer before he captured her lips softly. The kiss started gentle and chaste but he deepened it slowly. Each tug and slide of lips and tongue and teeth was drawn out and unhurried. Every subtle stroke of his hands against her sides helped the anticipation build gradually.

Before Rose caught on he had rolled his body to cover hers. As more of his front fell into her, she couldn't fight the hitch in breath at feeling his arousal pressed against her hip. It never occurred to her this might just happen naturally, on a hotel bed in Barcelona with no outside forces or prompting. Now it was already well on its way.

As if sensing hesitation, the Doctor pulled away to look at her properly.

"Okay?" he managed through the haze of desire that threatened to overwhelm him.

It was equally frightening as it was exhilarating, losing control completely over to passion. If he had to fall, he was glad it was with her. The love they shared was solid and promising enough to quell the anxiety he felt at letting go.

Any lingering doubts were completely extinguished by Rose's brilliant, confident smile.

"Perfect," she sighed contentedly. "It's perfect."

With her acceptance, he leaned in to kiss her again. First on the lips, then down, trailing a hot path of teeth and tongue over her jaw, down her neck, and out toward her shoulder until the shirt got in the way. She laughed at his frustrated groan but leaned back and helpfully divested the offending garment.

Bestowed with a new canvas of bare skin, the Doctor wasted no time using his lips and hands to map out the uncharted territory of Rose's chest, her stomach, her arms and shoulders, everywhere but the neglected anatomy of her breasts. She tolerated his aimless exploration for a while but eventually took control with an impatient huff, threading her fingers deep into his hair - great hair, she corrected inwardly - and tugging his head where she wanted his mouth the most. His consequent groan and thrust against her hips told her he enjoyed it more than he might readily admit.

His mouth finally found a perfect pink nipple with her sharp guidance, licking the peak taut before applying the gentle suction of his lips. Rose arched her back in a profound curve, encouraging him to continue this exquisite torture. She felt the proud smile flourish against her skin. He released her nipple with one last taste and readily gave her other breast the same treatment, more than happy to oblige her nonverbal cues.

The slow burn of pleasure was amazing but not nearly enough. Rose had waited so long for this moment and the urge rose up to take him now. Hands still fisted deliciously in his locks, she pulled him up into a sloppy kiss and rutted her hips against his in provocation.

"Now," she ordered thickly. "Please."

"Oh, yes," he growled his agreement.

Neither seemed to care if their scramble to fully undress resembled two teenagers eager to feel skin for the first time. There was only love and desire and the urgency to become one in the very next moment.

Rose felt her chest tighten at the reality of seeing him like this. With all boundaries and clothes removed, she felt naked in more ways than one. The urgency was still there, in their rapid heartbeats and panted breaths, but time seemed to crawl as she drank him in.

The Doctor didn't bother to hide his appreciation as he raked his eyes over her form. As though purposefully trying to quell any insecurity Rose may have felt, he gazed surely into her eyes and smiled brilliantly.

"Still beautiful," he assured her. "Even more beautiful," he amended, gently brushing a lock of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. "Come here."

He reached for her and pulled her atop himself, allowing her to straddle him. Rose planting her hands firmly on his slim shoulders for balance. He smoothed his palms up the inside of her legs, observing his two fingers curl to tease the slick flesh of her center. Her keening moan and slippery inner thighs told him she was more than ready.

"This way?" she asked breathlessly.

Hazy brown eyes shot up to her face and he nodded, the slight frown indicating he had somehow managed to activate the logical side of his brain despite the overwhelming feelings assaulting his senses. "It's better for -"

Before he could finish, she jumped in, smacking him playfully on the shoulder. "Stop it."

She could picture him now, calculating the angles and velocity of sex with complicated equations in his head. Not in her bed.

Clearly pouting, the Doctor rubbed his abused skin sulkily.

"Miraculously, I spontaneously generated from just a hand. It would be a shame to lose my entire arm because you keep insisting on hitting me," he quipped drolly.

In retrospect, bringing up the metacrisis in bed was probably not the smartest move, but luckily enough for him Rose seemed unfazed.

Her expression softened with a crooked smile. "Don't overthink this. Just feel."

"I want to please you," he protested earnestly.

"I've wanted you for at least five years," Rose admitted bravely. "Just knowing you want me, too... I'm pleased. Promise."

His eyes widened. "Five - ?"

She silenced him with a kiss before he could do the math and feed his considerable ego further. One luxurious kiss melted into another until conversation was forgotten completely. They communicated instead with the wet slide of lips and tongue and the questing touch of hands.

Despite her earlier rebuke, she didn't shift their position. Instead, she leveraged his distraction to reach down between them and position him at her entrance. At the first wet slide of his length against her folds, he tore his lips from hers and gasped her name into the heated air between them.

Encouraged, Rose sank down on him agonizingly slowly, drawing out this coveted union immortalized in dreams. The feeling of him finally inside her, filling and stretching her, was a comfort to be savored. She leaned her forehead against his and basked in it.

For the Doctor, the burning, fluid pressure of her surrounding him was almost too much. His human body elevated the tactile sensations above all else, demanding forward momentum. With no exertion, he found he was already panting with the effort of holding still and allowing her this moment.

Without warning, she flexed her internal muscles, gripping him purposefully without moving her hips. When he groaned and looked up at her, she flashed a cheeky smirk.

"Rose," he grunted roughly. "Now that's not fair."

She rewarded him with a messy, languid kiss and a roll of her hips. "I'm waiting, Doctor," she breathed against his lips. "Show me your moves."

The spark of challenge danced in his eyes as he complied, drawing out of her lazily only to slam home rapidly. Her eyes slid shut and she threw her head back with an answering moan, golden hair spilling back over her shoulders. Desperate to hear that beautiful sound again, he repeated the action, again and again until the rhythm began to spiral toward fast and careless.

Rose lost herself in the frenzied pace, grinding her hips and seeking more, always more, friction and sensation and heat. Catching on, he slid a hand between them to where they were joined. His thumb toyed with her oversensitized bundle of nerves, deftly timing each circling touch with the thrust of his hips. It was perfect - no, it was too soon - no, not soon enough. She held back, trying to draw out the searing tension of riding the edge for a little longer.

The Doctor groaned her name again, just as the wave crested, and she opened her eyes to see his dark, fathomless gaze begging her to give in. She crashed. The raw scream that tore from her throat when her orgasm hit was probably too loud, but the dreamy smile it drew from him was worth everything.

As she came down she realized he had slowed, drawing every twinge and aftershock out to its fullest reach. She raised a hand to gently cup his cheek and he brought his up to cover it, pressing a tender kiss into her palm.

Instinct took over from there, driving him recklessly on to the end. Rose was there with him, murmuring encouragements and endearments against his lips even as his mouth went slack. She indulged in watching him fall apart, the sharp bite of his fingernails gripping her hips steady as he bucked up into her faster, harder, deeper.

With a hoarse cry, he let go. Never before had the Doctor felt such chaos, this mind-numbing ecstasy of human release. He was gone from himself, shattered and spread across the universe in the blaze of a comet's trail, burning and falling. Then, just as suddenly, he was back. He was heavy and weightless, sated and broken, with only Rose to pull him back together.

She did, with soft kisses and tender caresses as they both caught their breath and strived to slow two racing heartbeats, a matched set. Rose seemed loathe to move, nuzzling her face into his neck in the afterglow and letting him stay inside her just a little bit longer.

Eventually, her tired muscles gave in and she rolled off him. She collapsed heavily onto the mattress only to quickly snuggle into his side. As though bringing the whole act full circle, the Doctor gently fingered the ends of her hair, now slightly damp from lying against her sweat-slicked skin.

"You okay?" she ventured hoarsely into the silence. He gave her an almost insulted questioning look and she clarified. "You're being quiet."

He grinned wickedly. "Would you rather I talked?"

"You usually do," she quipped with a scoff.

"If I talk I can't listen," the Doctor resolved plainly, fitting his chin atop her head. "And you, Rose Tyler, make the most beautiful sounds in the midst of pleasure."

She blushed and hid her pleased smile against his side. It was almost too wonderful to believe they could have this now. This effortless intimacy on top of the friendship that meant everything to her. In this moment she was happy. Rose wouldn't be surprised if she was glowing as brightly as her TARDIS key.

Lazily the Doctor continued to play his fingers through her hair. Rose caressed the bare skin of his chest, a privilege she'd neglected in their frantic rush to disrobe.

"I should've thought about protection," Rose realized belatedly. She was so swept up in the excitement of finally joining with him it hadn't even crossed her mind.

"You're not -" he stopped, thinking better of using the technical term. "The timing's not right for that."

She scrutinized him warily. "You can tell that, too? From licking me?"

"Well," he averted his eyes almost sheepishly. "So it would seem, yes. I don't have as much control anymore. Some biochemical markers stand out more than others. Seems to be a toss-up whether they come through."

"Would you know? If I was..." she trailed off, swirling her fingers absently above his navel.

The Doctor shivered almost imperceptibly at the touch and nodded.

"Yes," he answered honestly. "Long before a little white stick."

It felt weird to be having this conversation as pillow talk, although Rose supposed it actually made a lot of sense.

"I don't want that," she began, then quickly added, "Not yet, I mean. Not right now. I think we have a lot to do first."

He beamed a twinkling grin just for her. "You and I, Rose Tyler, have a whole lot to do together."

"But that's okay, right?" she asked, a little shyly, because of all the things in the universe, she never expected to discuss the possibility of starting a family with him. "If it's, you know, maybe someday. But not right now?"

The Doctor gently took her hand and placed a kiss to her knuckles, a sweet gesture reminiscent of their first real night together in this world.

"That's more than okay."

In all honesty, the fact she would even consider bearing his child in the future was more than he ever could have hoped for. But for now, he agreed wholeheartedly. Their immediate plans were not conducive to bringing a baby into the world.

Rose nodded intently. "Good," she decided.

Then, she felt the need to make sure he understood something. Propping up on her elbows, she regarded him at eye level, a mock serious expression fading into a graceful smile.

"I love you," she whispered smoothly.

"Rose," he murmured, awed as always by her sincerity. "I love  _you_."

She smiled wider and planted a chaste peck on his unguarded lips.

"Good," she repeated resolutely. "Just making sure you knew."

Satisfied in all ways, she settled back down beside him. He was silent for a while, though she swore she could hear him thinking. In the peace of his arms, she was just starting to drift off when he finally spoke.

"We'll be back in London tomorrow," he murmured distantly, watching his thumb rub circles on the back of her hand. "And we'll have to make a deal with Pete to get what we need to grow the new TARDIS."

"Torchwood really is different now," she assured him. "It's better."

He raised her chin to see her face and met her heavy-lidded eyes openly. "I trust you."

Hearing those words from him was almost better than the sum of all their previous activities that night.

Almost.


End file.
